


Spoken Word

by scarletrebel



Series: Kindred Light [2]
Category: Destiny (Video Game)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-11 18:34:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9001891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletrebel/pseuds/scarletrebel
Summary: He’s so wrapped up in his own mind, he misses the time in between her making a noise in her throat, a quiet hum, and leaning back; tilting her head around, connecting their bodies with a gentle press of her back. Her arm coming up to rest lilac knuckles against tan cheekbones. Blue eyes capturing brown, entranced.“Now you’re getting the idea.”Rook doesn’t consider himself a romantic man, no matter what Cayde says about the difference between flirting and ‘trying to get away with’ something. But there’s no denying the way the universe slows to a crawl as Avia’s fingertips brush over his cheek, conveying confidence and mirth in the curl of her arm. The moment ends too quickly, and it takes Rook the same amount of time to decide that he likes this a lot, too.





	1. Speak Your Mind

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Christmas! This is dedicated to the ever lovely mrpinstripesuit on tumblr who's oc's need to Stop bc my oc's can't handle it. here's the awkward story of Rook and Avia. Two shy dumb nerds who can't get their act together long enough to admit they're in love. And everyone knows it.

The long corridor before the Narthex is anything but practical. True to the Hive’s nature all it does is feel foreign and foreboding, nothing like what it is -- a direct path to the Dreadnaughts core. A high corridor creeping into a confined space, dead Cabal littering the way, a Hive sword lying unimposing amongst ash and dirt. The air is thick and heavy with foreign contaminants. The Strike team comes to a stop by a jagged gate, lights embedded in the walls greet them as the gate whines open.

Avia loves this part. It’s always come easy to her, even when she was part of the Guard. As the three of them form a circle to confirm the details of their strategy, it’s like waxing poetry, a second language, and ever since becoming a Guardian she’s only gotten better. Able to think out loud, plan to the strengths of supporting teammates. After being stifled by the Awoken for so long, after being nothing but a soldier, she’s happy to spread her wings at every opportunity she gets.

A great Strike team helps too, not that she’d ever say that out loud.

“Ah, shoot,” Rook says suddenly, snapping her attention to him. “Don’t have my Khepri’s with me. If you want me to invis im gonna have to go Bladedancer.”

This puts a wrench in Avia’s plan. They’ve still got some time, though. The Bond Brothers have been known to meet a challenge rather than seek one out, so they have the advantage of starting the fight once they’re ready.

“You could stay Nightstalker and use the smoke bombs like Avia does?” Grier supplies. “Or Avia could just do it, you could swap roles.”

“No,” Avia says softly. “Rook uses the Toxin smoke better, the Brothers won’t be alone so we need to stagger their reinforcements as much as we can. That’s why you’re on Stormcaller, Grier.”

Avia can imagine the pout under the Warlocks helmet. He argued endlessly that they’d need him to be able to revive himself, but Avia has faith. Leave Grier and Rook to clear the Cabal by the Brother’s sides, let Rook revive them should they fall, call out when to target the Brother’s specifically as a team. Cayde warned them that the Brother’s like to dip in and out of battle, only attacking together if they lost the upper hand. Avia intends to make that happen.

However, she counted on Rook to have the Khepri’s Stings to go invisible whilst helping Grier clean up the battlefield with the Nightstalker tether. This changes things.

“He’s got a point though,” Rook says, reloading his hand canon absentmindedly. “You’re a better Nightstalker than I am anyway, Avia. Let me go Gunslinger, I’ll make the calls.”

There’s a silence. She’s considering it.

“Don’t trust me sweetheart?”

Grier tuts, and Avia answers quickly. “It’s not that.”

“Speak your mind, babe.”

“Oh come on,” Grier whines with a smile in his voice, making Avia laugh.

“You’re a stronger Bladedancer than a Gunslinger.”

“I’m a stronger Bladedancer than a Nightstalker, what’s your point?”

“That _is_ my point,” Avia says. “No offence darling, but I’m more confident taking the lead on this one.”

“Light above, here we go.” Again, Grier whines good-naturedly.

“Let’s not fight in front of the kid,” Rook waves in Grier’s general direction and Avia wishes she could see the smirk on her fellow Hunter’s face. “Just hear me out.”

She concedes easily. “Alright, but only because you called me sweetheart.”

“I may not be as good a Gunslinger, but I can call the shots. I got the Achlyophage, the Nighthawk. Make the call on which one you want me to use, hell – tell me how you want my set up sugar, I’m all for it. You’re the stronger Nightstalker here, maybe not as sneaky as yours truly but hey, I’d trust you to revive me any day. You and Grier are a better couple anyway, almost makes me jealous.”

“Ugh! Really?” Grier exclaims with a laugh. “You can’t go from calling me your kid to calling me Avia’s – whatever – come on Rook!”

“I know you don’t wanna,” Rook continues. “But take the back seat on this one Avia. Trust me.”

She’s happily frustrated. Honestly, she thinks of every other Hunter who told her to ‘take a back seat’ to ‘back off’, to ‘let them handle it’. They’re not Rook. It’s difficult, to give up the lead on this one, the subconscious lead that the ones closest to her let her take because they know her. It’s especially hard to shift given how close they are to the Brothers, waiting to strike.

But it’s Rook, and she’s focused enough that her brain doesn’t consider the implications of that before she makes a decision.

“Achlyophage,” Avia says finally. “I’ve noticed the lack of snipers in your collection, the more shots you have the better.”

“Hey now, don’t _wound_ me like that,” Rook places a hand over his heart, wincing.

“Ha. Sorry, _sugar_.”

Before they enter the Narthex, she goes over the plan again with Rook’s modifications. The pieces slot into place easily enough, Rook and Grier nodding along, Grier sometimes repeating certain parts back to her. She asks them if they’re all good once finished, they confirm and she leads the way through the now open gate.

Everything on the Dreadnaught feels like the Hive decided to take a lesson in merging religion and astrophysics. No less the core that powers the massive ship, the ceiling of the room it’s housed in non-existent, the physical thing towering and sharp to even look at. The air coalesces into a thick mist that hangs, suffocating and dense.

They kick up dust as they walk towards it; Avia notes the raised areas as they breach further. Poor attempts at stairs lead to higher and lower ground at the edges of the room. On the core, the Cabal’s handiwork is already apparent. Munitions – _bombs_ \- hooked up to each structural weakness. Avia wants them dismantled immediately.

“We may not get the chance,” Rook says as the ground begins to shake. Avia wants to push, giving the Brother’s any chance to blow the core and take the solar system with it is an opportunity they need to remove from the field. She’s not entirely sure if a suicide mission is the Cabal’s M.O – her instincts tell her not to take that chance.

Sharply, Avia looks Rook over, her faith questioned by the reality of the situation. She spots it, minutely but it’s there; the shake in his normally relaxed shoulders, watching transfixed as one of the massive bone coloured Hive gates opens, foreboding. He notices her looking as he takes out his shotgun, straightens himself. She can’t help but think; has he lead a mission before?

The first Brother arrives on mechanical wings, the Valus rushing towards them quickly. Once his method of attack is established, a slam similar to a Striker Titan’s without the elemental edge, Avia has to hold her tongue. She waits for Rook’s first call.

He tells them to focus on the reinforcements and take critical shots at the Valus when they can. He’ll keep his eye on the Brother, try to draw his attention. As Psions, Legionaries and Phalanxes flood the room, Avia keeps her own eye on Rook as much as she can. His main tactic seems to be aggravating the Valus, waiting for him to take flight and jumping out of the way before he slams the ground, sometimes chucking a grenade on the way back down.

A Phalanx whacks her in the face with its shield, she ducks underneath its following attempt at hitting her with its gun and wishes in the back of her mind that Rook had the Bones of Eao on. The boots would’ve helped him avoid the Valus’s attack better, gifting him a higher jump, a better chance at not being hit. Shotgunning the Phalanx in the side, climbing its body to stab into its neck, Avia curses herself; she couldn’t have known.

The thought is followed immediately by Rook’s harsh grunt in her ear. He cries out again – shocked, didn’t expect it – and she whips her head around in time to watch him fall from the wall of the Narthex, hitting the ground with a hard _thud_.

“Rook!”

He’s landed on his back, but he doesn’t move right away. She restrains herself, turns and helps Grier with a group of Legionaries advancing on him quicker than he can reload.

“Didn’t – ah! – jump high enough, ha,” Rook grits out. She hangs on his words. “Oh, hey big guy--!”

“Rook,” she seethes as the Valus runs towards him again; _get a move on_ , her tone screams.

“Right, right, focus fire!”

She and Grier finish off the Legionaries and get into positions where they can see the Valus. Grier glides into the air, firing rockets at him whilst Avia takes out her machine gun and tries to aim for the Cabal General’s stupidly small head. She can’t see Rook, but eventually the damage all three of them put into the Valus forces him to retreat.  

“Coward!” Grier yells.

“It aint over yet buddy,” Rook beats Avia to the light reprimand. She smiles, reloading her machine gun in the reprieve.

“Maybe this taking the lead thing isn’t everything it’s cracked up to be,” Rook says quickly, before the fight starts again. He sounds winded, shaken. Avia frowns, something in her chest blooming.

“Hey, no,” she shoots back. “You’ve got this.”

The second Bond Brother arrives, the Hive gate creaking and groaning as he enters. A massive mortar is fused to the back of his armour, and he stands primed to launch them, shielding himself in a bubble.

“Heh, _that’s_ high praise.”

Reinforcements begin to flood the area, Grier activating his stormtrance and gliding by Avia, crackling with raw energy, as she jumps and throws a grenade into a group of Psions. Her chest blooms further; _it’s just concern_ she rationalises.

“Focus,” she says to herself. Rook hears her too, soon coming up with a strategy.

“Okay guys, this might get annoying.”

“You’re on my fireteam Rook I – yikes! – ah, I’m used to it, ha.” Grier quips and Avia has to shush him.

“Funny, kid. Avia, you got a tether for me?”

“For you? Always.”

Grier groans with nothing behind it and Rook laughs through a grunt of pain. Avia guns down a few more Psions, her Supercell rattling in her hand like Grier’s stormtrance. She jumps as one of them sends an Arc charge at her.

“Tether this guy as soon as he lands, and we’ll try and push him into a retreat. If he procs his shield again you’re just gonna have to listen to my callouts for damage – only if you get a clear shot, ya hear?”

Avia worries immediately – Rook’s mixing up the brothers. “Wait – what do you mean by lands?” She asks before the Valus shakes the area a few feet away from her.

“That,” Rook breathes.

She uses all her motion to jump high in the air and call the Void energy to her, releasing the arrow, the Void that formed the bow itself going with it. She hits the Valus just as his shield goes up, the force of the tether pushing his monstrous form back a few feet, the Light of the Void engulfing him. The Cabal General roars. Rooks yells at them to push in and give it all they’ve got.

Once again Avia and Grier equip their heavy weapons as Rook calls on his Golden Gun. The first shot misses, skidding past the Valus’s massive shoulder but then one, two, three shots find their mark at his helmet and he staggers in pain.

“Damn it,” Rook growls, and Avia can’t help but smirk even as her knees start to shake.

As the second Brother runs for the gate, Avia wonders how desperate the Cabal, these Bond Brothers must be to retreat the way they do. She’s reminded of Valus T’auruc, the foothold the militia empire used to have on Mars. How it was destroyed by the Guardians, and then the Taken not only overran them, but made them puppets to a Hive god.

Avia realises the irony in how important this Strike is in the face of the sharp fall of their toughest strategical enemies. Cayde gave her this mission because it would eliminate the last Cabal Generals in their solar system, as well as save it from a possible nuke. There was a time when she’d let Cayde’s exaggerations fuel her ego. As she looks over at Rook, more alert than normal, eager and ready to fight – she’s glad she’s not that kind of Guardian anymore.

Well. She _was_ the one who got them this far of course, but Rook’s managed to lead them adequately. Not bad for a first timer. Impressive, actually.

“You ready to end this?” Rook says.

“Yeah!” Grier answers.

“You with me sweetheart?”

The warmth across her chest, that _feeling_ , whatever it is – blooms uncontrollably and Avia takes a second to set her voice straight.

“Yeah.”

When the Brothers arrive together, exactly where Avia wants them, she settles easier into the role of support. Her tether ties the Generals down in one place, letting Rook eviscerate them with Solar Light as her and Grier keep the reinforcements caught in her Void Light back.

She watches Rook up until the last Brother falls, the Hunter telling them to eliminate ‘the flying guy’ first so that they could better coordinate their attacks. And bless Rook, really, Avia thinks to herself for explaining himself, a habit Avia had to get _into_ instead of expecting fellow Guardians to follow her orders. Light knows that she still does so, especially to Rook, who… Follows them dutifully. Normally. The odd occasion such as today fails to come to Avia but she knows they’re there. Aren’t they? Hmm. Maybe she knows Rook too well. Maybe, he knows her too well.

So when the last Valus falls, stealing his Bond Brothers wings in a last ditch effort to win back the fight, Rook catches Avia staring at him. She couldn’t help it, Grier’s yell of victory white noise as she watched the tension practically escape from Rook’s armour, his laid back demeanour taking over again as he walks over to her. Cayde chatters away in their ears but Avia isn’t paying attention.

“Like something you see?”

Rook walks with a swagger less confident than it is pleased. Another day in the office, another notch on the belt. He’s breathless, and Avia finds she is too.

She laughs, an exhale. In her mind she thinks, _yeah. Yeah, I do._

* * *

Rook had a feeling Cayde wouldn’t be able to stop himself from making a comment about it. They all know Avia, how she works, how she doles out command and strategy like she was born to do it. But Rook knows her on another level too, and some Hunters – ones who don’t have the luck of getting a Warlock like Grier stuck under their skin – just can’t shake their lone wolf ways.

“I just, mmm,” The Hunter Vanguard clasps Avia on the shoulder. “So proud. No one gives Hunters the credit they deserve for taking a back seat sometimes.”

Hers was a tough one to crack, but if her loyalty and warmth is anything to go by, she’s better off for it.

“She gave the lead to another Hunter,” Grier says flatly. “Although, I guess it _is_ Avia.”

“Thanks buddy,” Dryly, Avia casts a look at Grier. Siblings if ever Rook had seen them.

“Hey, you let someone else step up to the challenge Avia, you were a real team player today. Embrace it.” Cayde then takes Rook by both shoulders, shaking him slightly. “And you! How is it I pair you up with plenty of Hunters and nothing, and as soon as this one comes along you’re pushing to the front, hmm?”

“Not trying to pit us against each other, are you Cayde?” Avia says, the comment toeing the line of light-hearted.  

“No! No of course not just uh,” Cayde gestures vaguely at Rook, still talking to Avia. “Always struggled finding a Guardian who could really – you know – challenge this one. Always seemed to sit in the back. Makes me wonder what kind of effect you have on him, exactly.”

“Oh?” Avia tilts her mouth, raising an eyebrow.

“Hey -- don’t let it get to that pretty little head, sweetheart,” Rook says and relishes the way Avia’s mouth opens like she wants to tell him to _shut up_ but won’t. “Just a little stupidity on my part. Next time you tell me to bring something I promise not to forget it if it stops you from thinking you have an _effect_ on me.”

“Can I leave?” Grier whines as Cayde starts laughing.

“You know Rook, there’s a big difference between flirting and whatever the hell it is you’re trying to get away with right now.”

Cayde’s comment is enough to ground him. He thinks back to the Dreadnaught, how he forgot the one thing Avia asked him to have equipped. It happens, she didn’t appear to be mad and they worked it out. If the consequences of his actions meant he had to step up? He’d do it, for a job well done. It was that simple.

All he does is shrug.

“I don’t do that kinda thing often,” he finds himself saying, fooling himself into believing that the purple around Avia’s cheeks is darker, blushing. “Know it must have been hard for ya.”

“Don’t worry, it was the right call.” She smiles again, wolfish. “Although I was right about the Aclyophage.”

“You said it sweetheart, Gunslinging aint my thing.”

“Well, neither is leading apparently but, you did a good job.”

Cayde whistles through mechanical lips. “Aint that high praise.”

Rook laughs maybe a little too sweetly, not that he realises right away. He leans towards Cayde; “Heh, any chance you could get her saying that on a recording for me?”

He didn’t expect the Exo to look quietly at both of the Hunters, bright yellow lights squinting at them. Not accusatory, but definitely something. Rook doesn’t know Exo facial ques as well as other Guardians, but there’s _something_ in the way the yellow lights behind his face plates move.

He hopes he isn’t blushing, wishes for a second that he was any other race in this meeting so that no one would know if he was.

“Seriously,” Cayde straightens, his ‘Vanguard posture’ as Avia teases him for. “You two – no, all three of you. The systems safer now without those brothers in it. Keep pushing, keep fighting. Good job.”

Cayde doesn’t even wait for them to be out of earshot before he pulls out his Ghost and asks to get in touch with Holiday.

“Oh! Grier,” Avia says, stopping the three of them just before the hallway sections off into crucible matters. “Scarlet wants to talk to you.”

“Uh, what did I do?”

“No,” Avia looks down and smiles. Rook can’t blame Grier’s reaction at all, in fact he starts smiling too. “She’s looking up journals of the Warlock-who-shan’t-be-named. She wants your input.”

“My – My what?”

“Uh, your input? I don’t know kid, that’s all she said to me. She said something about pinpointing--”

But Grier is off like a shot, not bothering to ask where Scarlet is, not needing to. Damn Warlocks.

“Oh sweetheart, you just made his entire day.”

“Taking down the last Cabal generals in the solar system didn’t do it for him?”

“Nah,” Rook laughs, thinking about getting them walking again but decidedly content with just standing around and talking to Avia.

“Discussing a long dead Warlock obsessed with the Hive?”

“We won’t be seeing him for a few hours.”

Avia’s smile is blinding, sweeping her pastel hair behind one of her ears.

“Well, as long as he’s happy.”

That was tame. Normally some kind of dig about Grier’s fascinations would’ve come out of her. Rook just can’t seem to place anyone today.

“How’s your Warlock doing anyway? She got out lately?”

“Oh, of course not.” Avia’s voice turns small. “It’s hard to get a read on her on a good day. Lately she’d had her hands on a project for the Hidden, don’t know how she got on the subject of The Shattered One, but.”

He frowns at her, not that she sees, lost in thought looking at her feet.

“You alright?” He asks. “Giving up lead having an adverse effect on you?”

“Ha, something like that.”

Rook shoots her a look. One more deeply known between them as a complete strip of, well, them. Express, unspoken permission – the ability to put aside everything – and answer each other seriously. Honestly. Put the class away. The flirting, the concern for that Guardian or this mission. Are you okay?

Avia sighs, her other ear receiving a nestle of light hair behind it.

“You scared me for a second there. Sort of wished I’d asked you to have the Bones on so you could get out of the way better, but.”

“You couldn’t have known.”

“Yeah, yeah I know – you just, worried me. We – you know, we were in the heart of the Dreadnaught and all.”

“Yeah,” once again Rook wishes the possibility of an oncoming blush was slim. It isn’t.

“Up against two Cabal generals,”

“I know,” he says softly.

Rooks heart squeezes. What is happening today? First he manages to get Avia, _Avia_ of all people to ditch her no doubt well thought out battle strategy with minimal fuss. Not that he’s ever thought of her like that, it was probably the reason they worked together so well, especially for two Hunters. She said shoot and his finger was on the trigger. He said let’s try something different and she was already making it work.

He was supposed to switch to the Khepri’s once they found the Brothers, but when he realised he didn’t have them he thought he’d have to fight for the lead. It was the only thing he could think of that’d work given their strengths, them switching subclasses to negate Rook not being able to work to Avia’s plan.

(He’d meant every word of it; she was the better Nightstalker, which meant he’d have to take on her role, a subclass of which he didn’t feel particularly strong with so he sought her guidance.) 

But no, she gave it willingly. To _him_ , and then he’d nearly messed it up.

Hitting the ground of the Narthex had shaken him, too. And he’d tried to compose himself in time but his riddled brain had just seen her and thought that he couldn’t do this. And now here she is, telling him that she was just as scared, worried about him to the point where she just seems off.

_Of course she would be_ , his mind supplies. _If it was Grier, she’d be the same._

_Huh, yeah._

“Rook? You with me buddy?”

He completely missed everything she just said to him. Light above, he was just _staring_ at her the _entire time_. What is _happening_ today?

“Sorry, got lost in your eyes.”

“Ha, nice.”

Rook looks ahead in an attempt to break the moment. It doesn’t help, Avia’s presence next to him still heavy, unignorably. He spots something and an idea forms, he smiles.

“Let me make it up to you.”

“What?”

Rook starts moving towards everyones favourite mysterious vendor. He doesn’t quite know how Xur is permitted so close to the Vanguard in the first place, even if there is a mammoth between them in the form of Lord Shaxx. Not that the Agent of the Nine would try anything anyway, he supposes. They all suppose.

Avia follows close behind, picking up on his offer.

“Oh, Rook, no you don’t have to.”

“I want to, hate the idea of giving my favourite girl an awful fright.”

“Travelers Light, Rook.” Avia scoffs with a roll of her eyes.

“Besides, you reminded me. You need all the help you can get when it comes to jumping, anyway.”

“Listen – that’s unfair.”

“Oh is it, when it takes you ten minutes to climb what it takes most Warlocks five. Warlocks, Avia.”

The Awoken grumbles as Rook pulls out a handful of strange coins, tries to look Xur in the eyes (not that it’s easy with, you know, the tentacle face) and buys the Bones of Eao. Xur gurgles something about the transaction having a ‘purpose in the universe’ and Rook nods along, turning swiftly back to Avia and backing them up away from him. He summons his Ghost and asks them to put the exotic boots in Avia’s vault for her.

“I like your new shell, buddy.” Avia says, admiring the ‘Taken’ skin the Ghost sports.

“Thanks,” Rook’s Ghost replies. “It scared Grier’s Ghost the other day. I was worried.”

Avia thanks Rook’s Ghost once the boots are transferred, and the conversation between the two is far too adorable to be allowed, in Rook’s opinion. The Ghost dissipates, and Avia looks at him again. Rook feels like the Awoken shimmer, just present on their skin, in the right light, seen maybe once by most people has heightened on Avia’s face.

“I mean, I’m probably going to have to find something to infuse into them but, thanks Rook.”

“Yeah, well. Just promise me you won’t dismantle them at least.”

“I promise,” her smile finds a vein near his heart and twists. Her entire face is alight, her body moves with a jovial sway, reminding Rook of when he first met her, the contrast blinding him, how upright and serious she seemed.

He did that. The way she practically skips past Shaxx, taking the crucible master off Guard for a second, it doesn’t even register to Rook where he’s following her to, he just does. _He_ did that, not even thinking about this outcome all the while. She’s so… different, like this. He likes it, the twist near his heart tightening.

“I’m serious. If you do, it’ll break my heart.”

“Don’t I do that all the time?”

“What, break my heart? Sugar,” Avia shoots him a glance over her shoulder as they walk past Eris and up the stairs, out into the afternoon light the Tower is bathed in. Her smile is wide, her eyes urging him on. “My heart only breaks for you.”

She snorts.

“You could’ve done better than that.”

“What? Hey!” Rook puffs up as Avia laughs. “That was pretty decent!”

“Exactly. Pretty ‘decent’ _sugar_ ,” Avia drawls, sauntering up to the vaults. “Nice try, though.”

Sugar. The way she parrots the nickname back at him once again sends a shock of something down his spine. It’s enough to propel him forward as she dips her head down to see the vault screen, his left arm crowding her form by resting above her head on the tower, his chest bumping her back ever so slightly.

“Should’ve figured it wouldn’t be that easy to get a girl like you.”

The words fall out of his mouth, tumbling after one another before he can stop them. His brain immediately screams at him, reminding him who he’s talking to; _Avia, you idiot! Grier’s sister-in-arms! The Reef warrior who could knife you quicker than you could say ‘hey I didn’t mean anything by that!’ You think a little bit of flirting makes_ this _okay?!_

He’s so wrapped up in his own mind, he misses the time in between her making a noise in her throat, a quiet hum, and leaning back; tilting her head around, connecting their bodies with a gentle press of her back. Her arm coming up to rest lilac knuckles against tan cheekbones. Blue eyes capturing brown, entranced.

“Now you’re getting the idea.”

Rook doesn’t consider himself a romantic man, no matter what Cayde says about the difference between flirting and ‘trying to get away with’ something. But there’s no denying the way the universe slows to a crawl as Avia’s fingertips brush over his cheek, conveying confidence and mirth in the curl of her arm. The moment ends too quickly, and it takes Rook the same amount of time to decide that he likes this a lot, too.

_Ah, Travelers Shadow_ , he thinks.

As she pulls away, _that_ smirk resting on her lips, he can still feel the fire on his skin.

\--

It took Avia ten seconds to find boots in her vault to infuse into the Bones, twenty to realise what she’d just done, and twenty-one before she started internally freaking out about it.

She says goodbye to Rook; she’d promised Eden she’d at least try to get some sleep after the strike. Luckily enough that wasn’t a lie – If Avia doesn’t _try_ to catch at least eight hours per month, Eden is less than happy. Avia really doesn’t want to find out what Eden, ever-patient and protective Eden, is like when she’s mad.

“Til’ next time, sweetheart.” Rook says with a wink, and the second he leaves for orbit Avia all but runs to Eden’s quarters.

The Human’s brown eyes immediately read concern when she opens the door. On her olive skin she wears a thin top and baggy bottoms; Avia guesses she’s attempting to wind down, probably from the series of missions on behalf of Zavala concerning defences on the Wall. Her snow white hair is unceremoniously pulled back, parts of it still stuck up by her forehead. Kohl has been messily wiped from her face, some streaks still adorn her temples.

Avia doesn’t want to worry Eden, but the words come out all wrong at first. Eden sighs fondly and shakes her head, reaching out to grasp Avia’s shoulder; an anchor. Eden pulls on some fluffy socks and walks with Avia to her own quarters, where she demands the Awoken puts on some comfortable clothes of her own. They sit and talk on Avia’s bed, legs drawn up and crossed in front of each other, the kind of talks Avia would never admit that she loves. Getting things off her chest, talking to the human embodiment of all things _lovely_ that is Eden.

However, Eden smiles of all things whilst Avia tells her about how she has singlehandedly ruined her friendship with Rook. Eden spends most of the night trying to probe Avia for more information, which doesn’t work, and she resigns herself to assuring Avia that no, I’m sure nothing will change between you two and yes, I imagine he knows you were just teasing.

The afternoon tils into night before Eden leaves.

Avia doesn’t sleep, does she ever. The quiet Eden tried to weave into Avia’s mind works for all of twelve hours.

It was Scarlet, ever analytical, forward thinking Scarlet-2, who undid all of Eden’s hard work.

“Were you though?” The Exo asked the morning after as they kitted up for Iron Banner, concerned at the lack of ‘energy levels’ Avia was exhibiting. “Just teasing, I mean.”

And so, Avia went back to stressing out. _Was_ she just teasing? Would it matter? Probably not, she realised. She said it, she put it out there, and she issued the challenge. Rook was not a Guardian to take a challenge lightly. But did he just see her as that? Did she _want_ him to see her as that? What made the difference between what happens now and the way they flirted, played, messed around with each other before?

Eden’s taken to whacking Avia around the head nowadays and telling her to stop thinking about it, making Avia wonder what exactly it is that her face does when she starts thinking about _Rook_.

Eden also had to go and ask her if there was a point before that more than flirtatious back and forth by the vaults that made her feel attracted to Rook. She brought up the Cabal’s assault on the Dreadnaughts core without hesitating, how Rook had stepped up to take the lead in the face of a bump in her plan. How impressed she’d been by him, how he took it all on his shoulders with ease.

“Oh, Avia,” Eden had said with a chuckle that Avia didn’t entirely appreciate. “I should’ve bet glimmer on this.”

The whole situation was only made worse by Rook’s stupidly impressive performance in the Iron Banner as the week went on. Control was the game, one that had Avia planning out her gear set from the second she found out. They teamed up with Rook, Grier and Eve for a few rounds on the last day. Rook, decked out in Iron Banner gear, having already reached the highest acclaim, set it up – told Avia that they should just ‘have some fun together’ and Avia for all her overthinking just laughed and smirked, praying to something that he didn’t notice her fluster. (A million comebacks came to her only later when he wasn’t there because _of course they did_.)

Her mind only hazed over as she saw, really saw the shrug in his shoulders and the smile on his lips as Saladin praised him whilst they collected his bounties. The Iron Lord’s compliments didn’t bounce off of him per say, a quirk she never noticed before. He just absorbed the words, took them in his stride, glowing from the praise, warm and alight but simmered humbly so.

It engulfed her.

She burned in the realisation, he’s the only Hunter she’s ever got along with. And she can admit that she’s part of the problem when it comes to Guardians who share her class, only giving her a larger pause. She thinks about it a lot, the way he undoubtedly believes her capable, plays it all off as something laid back and casual, but she knows other Hunters like that who she finds laborious, hates the idea of dragging them along behind her. Not Rook, who lets her lead, plays to her strengths, reminds her of his, challenges her ideas and lets her push him in return.

She still thinks about it. She _can’t stop_ thinking about it. Every time he speaks to her, be it flirtatious or not she wonderd, wishes she could just see into his mind.

Do you think I want to be with you? Do you think I’m pursuing you, are you put off? Has nothing changed, am I looking too far into this? Are you? Are you thinking about it – or me – at all?

Travelers shadow, she wants to hit _herself_ sometimes.

She went to Scarlet directly once Lord Saladin left the Tower, craving the ever logical solutions of her Exo friend. Surely she’d know what to say to make Avia stop losing her mind.

“Maybe you should start asking yourself these questions.” Scarlet advised her.

Which, to Avia’s credit, she did. Kind of. In a sense.

She took all of those questions, and formed them into a singular thought, asking herself it over and over until it became numb and mute; what then?

So she comes to terms with her feelings, admit she likes Rook, maybe even – Light above, was she even capable of that? She isolated herself for so long after she left the Reef, even in the arms of the Guardians and the Tower she was alone, horrible, difficult. It took her so long just to be _nice_ to Grier, to Scarlet and Eden and she wants to pretend that she’s capable of loving someone?

She thinks of Petra, the closest thing she had to a friend in the Reef. The things she did, they did, for the favour of the Queen. How Mara Sov was cold and distant but still reeled them in with false promises and controlled praise. Avia saw what the Queen didn’t; Petra’s sickeningly hopeful expression beneath the suffocating helmet. Each mission, each mindless objective made Petra think things that Avia knew just weren’t true. Stepping closer to an unreachable goal.

So, she likes him. Then what?

* * *

News that the Fallen Devils were attempting another push into Old Russia wasn’t exactly a secret. What the Vanguard, or mainly Cayde, were hoping to keep on a need to know basis was the fact that Lord Saladin not only knew before they did, but had asked Rook and Avia to keep a close eye on the situation for him.

“But why you two?” Cayde had asked. “Big guy know something we don’t? Do you?”

Zavala, strangely enough, was paying no attention to the situation. Which left Cayde to work with the two Hunters so that they could pinpoint where in the Cosmodrome the Devils were operating. Saladin mentioned to Rook that they’ve always been focused on digging out Golden Age relics, so to target areas that may hold said relics. Anywhere untouched by the scavengers until now, even places left dormant since the collapse – and searching for those was made much more difficult by the Titan commanders’ unwillingness to get involved.

“He’s just jealous it’s not one of his Titans,” Cayde staged whispered to them, sending them on their way.

A short ship ride and rocky landing in territory along the edge of the Cosmodrome put them in unfamiliar surroundings. Cold, dark, just light enough to track their snowy footprints back should they get lost. They spot Fallen lights on the outside of what Rook recognises as a Golden Age office building.

“So, why not two Titans, do you think?” Avia asks Rook as they walk towards it, their Ghosts lighting the way.

“Saladin and me are best buds, didn’t I tell you?”

“Still, it doesn’t strike you as weird?” She persists. “Saladin sends two Hunters to investigate Fallen pushing into the Cosmodrome through the Wall. _Hunters_ , and Zavala wants nothing to do with it.”

“Dunno if it makes a difference,” Rook admits, thinking about it. He knows there’s some kind of bad blood between Saladin and Zavala but, the Iron Lord seemed really shaken about the Devils activity. All his normal brass had faded away, leaving nothing but a worried Guardian in its place. It made an impression on Rook, one that made him say yes to Saladin without even considering it.

Why he asked Rook to bring Avia with him was beyond him, but he just supposed their performances in the Iron Banner factored into his decision. Less what class they were, more the fact that Avia with a quivered tether was a deadly thing. Fearsome, in fact.

Downright distracting, he thinks solemnly, idly listening to Avia complain about Zavala making their mission harder. He’s gotten used to this, thinking about her whilst she’s right there, fighting or talking or flirting. Wondering if he’s on her mind as much as she is on his, if she too shuts down any train of thought about him before it gets into unknown territory. Thank the Traveler, then, that they’ve been paired up on a series of scouting missions with an undetermined end date, the sarcastic part of his mind supplies. There’s nothing he can do about it now, he supposes, nodding along every time Avia pauses in a series of complaints against Zavala he’s heard a million times. They – he – just has to focus. Facing awkward feelings should probably come later, if they come at all, if he’s managed to figure out what the hell said feelings towards Avia actually are. Not to mention if she even reciprocates them in the same way.

The closer they get to the building the darker it becomes, the last lights of the sunset fading away. As they enter, Rook shakes the snow from his feet, their Ghosts dissipating in the wake of more netted lights hanging from the high ceiling of a once lavish foyer.

“Fallen don’t tend to set themselves up in places like this.” Avia comments, shaking her own feet lamely.

“Nah, but if they’re at the top of the building it means there’s something important there. Although,” Rook looks at the lights on the staircase. The stairs themselves Golden Age in design, winding up the middle of the foyer and then splitting right and left. He can almost imagine the way the marble would shine were it not for the decay, the chips and marks along the smooth stone. The Fallen lights curve to the left, a clear path if ever Rook saw one but. They don’t remind him of the ones on Venus. They seem dimmer, out of use.

“Although?” Avia asks.

He might be paranoid.

“Nothing. Let’s make our way up.”

“Rook, what is it?”

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”

Another thing he’s grown used to; the way the air shifts with her presence sometimes. It happens now as he looks at her and she places a hand on her hip, her weight drawn to that side, shoulders lax; _tell me._ He doesn’t want to, loathe to make her think that he’s not taking this seriously. This isn’t Iron Banner, this isn’t a Strike – this is not only him and her, but something entrusted to him by the Iron Lord himself.

“Silence speaks louder than words, you know.”

Inwardly, Rook has to laugh at that. When he thinks about the things they’ve said and not said to each other versus the way they act when they’re together, it’s enough to make him concede.

“I don’t think the Fallen are here,” he admits.

“What makes you think that?”

“The lights. Its – dumb, but. Look at them.”

Avia considers him before walking up to a nestle of Fallen lights, caught in a net and then tossed up so they hang from the skeleton of a chandelier. Familiar Fallen crates sit in random corners of the decrepit building, too. How could he possibly think the Fallen aren’t here?

“They’re dim. Like someone else I know,” she jests.

“It was just a thought, doesn’t mean we shouldn’t use caution.”

“Yeah, but you could be right,” she summons her Ghost and looks back at him over her shoulder. “It’s been known to happen.”

Her Ghost tells her the lights were placed a few months ago, around about the same time Oryx entered the solar system. Rook whistles, walks up to them.

“They set up here a long time ago.”

Avia addresses her Ghost. “Can you detect any Fallen signatures?”

It beeps lowly. “That’s tricky, so close to the wall.”

“I know buddy, just,” Avia spares a glance at Rook, her helmet concealing any emotion. “Check for us? To be sure.”

The Ghost nods minutely and whirls its outer shell, the pieces extending and fanning around a ball of Light. It pulses the area, leaving a roaming highlight in its wake along the walls, the floor, the Fallen supplies.

“Hey,” Avia soothes. “Relax. Even if they’re not here we should find something that points us in the right direction.”

Rook hums confirmation, smiles under his helmet. “Right,” he sighs languidly. “Can’t, uh, believe you’re having to tell me to relax.”

“You’re nervous, it’s fine.”

“I aint – nervous, Avia. It’s just Fallen.”

Her Ghost confirms Fallen activity, but ers on the side of signatures far from them, just at the Wall. They advise caution, anyway, even with the dimmed lights. Rook shuffles, feeling stupid.

Avia continues as they make their way up the stairs leisurely. Her voice is relaxed, no hint of teasing. Understanding. “It’s ‘just’ a personal mission Lord Saladin sent you on. I get it.” The Iron Lords title carries all the weight it needs to.

“Oh, do you?” He’s starting to feel better as they ascend step by step, taking their time. “Cayde send you on super-secret missions all the time?”

“Ha, not exactly.”

“Oh. Ikora?”

“No,” Avia says on a breath, looks down at the auto rifle in her hands.

“Then what?” Rook finds himself asking. He doesn’t expect her to answer at all, really. It’s a surprise to both of them when she does.

“The, uh, Queen used to send us on ‘super-secret’ missions. At least, that’s what we thought they were. _They_ probably still think they are, I know some Guardians fall for it even though it’s peddled by Petra. She was testing us, our skills, our worth. I was a little more than nervous every time I was sent out on one.”

“You were alone?”

“Uh-huh. Every time. Even when I could bring a team, I wouldn’t. Wanted to prove myself, Light above all I ever wanted to do was prove myself to her.”

Avia talks with the weight of someone who’s past trying to forget, but doesn’t consider themselves likely to forgive. Bitter, jaded. Eden once told him all she wanted to do was wrap the Hunter up in a blanket and never let her leave the Tower. Rook didn’t pry, all Guardians (hell, it seemed like all Awoken) had demons to deal with.

This particular Awoken has never spoke about her past though, especially not to him. Another tidbit Eden provided him with – trying to get Avia to open up about her life at the Reef was like trying to win an arm wrestling contest with an Archon. Again, Rook didn’t pry, so he has to wonder what’s changed between them that not only would he ask, in albeit a roundabout way, but that she would share with him willingly.

And lo and behold, here he goes again, thinking about her as they zig zag through concrete hallways, following the traces of Fallen.

He supposes he never saw her like that, anyway. An aloof Hunter crippled by wounds of her past, keeping secrets close to her chest? Nah, people aren’t that simple – he sure as hell isn’t. Avia’s strong, caring, and kind to him. And now, he knows, struggling with a past she can’t run from. Trying to be a better version of it, maybe?

He thinks back to that day in the Tower; _now you’re getting the idea._

He’s played it over in his mind more than a few times. In this one, he’s burying his head in her neck and wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her close and refusing to let go even when she laughs at him. Her hand might reach up and stroke through his hair. He might never let her go.

Guilt blooms in his chest immediately. Idle thoughts are one thing, fantasising about the woman next to him as they climb into a Fallen den is just... Travelers shadow, he doesn’t even know what it is. He looks down, tries to think of something to say. Spots her boots. The Bones. His chest tightens.

“If you, uh,” he starts, stops. Her head whips up, looks at him. “Wanted to, talk about it, if you ever just, I don’t know – wanted to? I’m here.”

There’s a pause, it swallows them whole. They keep walking, the Fallen lights tapering off through a fire escape. Avia opens the door to steel steps winding upwards, rusted by time.

“I don’t think you’d like to hear what I was like at the Reef. It was hard enough for me to tell Scarlet and Eden--”

“You don’t have to, Avia. You don’t _have_ to, I mean, not that I would care about what you were like then but I’m just--” Rook growls, trying to find the right words. “I’m just saying that I’m here. For you. If you need it.”

It burns a hole in his chest, how much he means it. Avia doesn’t reply for a while, the bones on her boots scraping against the concrete wall every now and then as they tip higher and higher, amplifying the hole in Rook’s chest.

“Thank you,” she finally says, but it’s small. Genuine, but. Small.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart.”

They make the rest of the way in silence, cresting into a large room where all the furniture has been pushed to the sides to make way for some kind of machine in the middle, Fallen in nature but rudimentary, a claw sticking out of the top of it like a scorpion.

“There’s a charge on the side,” Rook moves over to it in strides. He looks at the flickering levels on the circular screen, low, barely even powered.

“Why would they go through all the trouble of building something just to abandon it?” Avia asks, moving past the machine and using her gun to move a tower of chairs out of her way. She adds; “Good shout, by the way.”

“Huh? Oh,” Rook feels the blush on his cheeks, tries to _snap out of it._ “Beginning to think you’re going soft on me, sugar.”

“You wouldn’t like me this much if I was, let’s face it.” She replies with ease and Rook’s stomach flips. _Back to normal, at least_ , he thinks and ignores the twinge of disappointment.

As Rook pulls out his Ghost, asking it to scan the machine, he takes in the room some more. Bits of scrap litter the floor, machinery, stains on concrete, pieces of broken furniture. Burn marks, deep scrapes.

“There was a lot of them,” Rook says. “Probably low level Fallen.”

“There were some higher ups here, too.” Avia calls to him. Rook’s Ghost continues to scan, so he moves over to her. At her feet are a pile of fallen arms.

“Strange. Fallen normally take these for themselves if they want to move up the ranks.”

“Maybe it was punishment.”

“So, Vandals?”

“Looks like it. What are Vandals doing working on a machine like this?”

“Too many questions,” Rook says as his Ghost floats over to them.

“It’s a generator,” it spins nervously. “Although, what it generates is beyond me.”

“How is it powered?” Avia asks.

“It would take a massive, ridiculous amount of voltage to power one of them. The kind of voltage that would need a catalyst. The goal of the machine is to activate the arm at the top, but it’s like I said, I can’t quite identify what the machine actually generates – what the output is.”

“Maybe the Fallen couldn’t either, that’s why they ditched it.” Rook suggests.

“Why build something if you didn’t know what it was supposed to make?” Avia counters, and Rook can’t help but laugh.

“Ever heard of a little thing called the Golden Age?”

“I guess. Well, it’s certainly the Fallens m.o. Is it Golden Age tech?” Avia asks the Ghost again.

“The main hull is, most of the physical components are. It’s what’s on the inside that worries me.”

Avia bristles. “You can’t identify it?”

“No, not at all.”


	2. What Then?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He grabs her hand from where it hovers in the air near her chest. It’s quick, not exactly elegant – a desperate grab. But she doesn’t flinch. He looks in her eyes as her hand relaxes, and pulls it close to him, his body moving forward in tandem. He rests it against his chest, thumb brushing over her knuckles.
> 
> She’s reminded of a conversation by the vaults what feels like forever ago.
> 
> “Don’t say that,” his eyes burn, engulfing her. “Don’t apologise for you. Not to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: this part was about 1500 words long until I edited it and now its around 4000. Yay editing! Also this was separated from the last part for that reason; I wanted to buff it out a bit. I've got a couple more chapters in mind but we'll see where that goes. Enjoy!

They keep vigilant on Saladin’s orders. Rook tells him about the machine, and the Iron Lord instructs them to keep an eye out for more. He calms the Hunters confusion by theorising that whatever it is, the Fallen may be trying to perfect it. In the meantime, he points them in the direction of some Barons digging up Golden Age tech in a remote section of the Cosmodrome. He urges the two to engage only if they think they can handle it. He’s sure the Devils are getting stronger, but he doesn’t know how.

They’re on the trail of one such Baron when Rook pipes up, voice echoing off of the dingy unlit halls of the bunker they’ve found themselves in. Their Ghosts light the way.

“Did I ever tell you about the first time Cayde tried to make me lead a mission?”

Avia laughs just at the thought. “No, you haven’t told me that particular story yet.”

“Ah, I remember it well,” he sighs fondly.

Idle chat had long since been replaced by moments like this. She never initiated them, Rook starting off their missions by reminiscing this and that, leaving the floor open for her to step out on, or shy away from. He didn’t seem to mind either way, and it was instrumental in the fact that Avia feels not only comfortable in Rook’s presence, but safe. Warm. Wanted. The same way Grier made her feel in spite of it all. Rooks done just that but in his own way, no pressure on Avia’s part. Patient.

The weeks had passed, the two of them growing closer – undoubtedly – and she’s opened up slowly, blooming. At first she’d told Rook little parts about her life in the Reef. The good parts, the ones she used to sate Eden and Scarlet when she didn’t want to talk about the worst parts.

In return, her own curiosity growing, she asked about his time as a newborn Guardian. And this is where the stories started; meeting Grier and Eve, his prowess in the crucible, meeting Lord Saladin for the first time, his introductory Iron Banner. The more he talks about himself, the more she’s willing to give back. It’s nice, to talk about herself at her own pace, to tell rather than recite. Rook affords her that. He listens, asks questions when he wants to, isn’t offended when she doesn’t answer.

And now, as they trudge along in the dark, the occasional ripple of a puddle one of them walks through harmonising with Rook’s voice, he tells Avia about his first Strike Gone Bust.

“And to this day, in my defence,” his chest puffs out although his tone is honeyed. “It wasn’t my fault.”

“It sounds a lot like your fault,” Avia gently prods. “Who honestly thinks they can outsmart a Vex Gatelord? A _Gatelord_ , Rook.”

“A ‘reckless idiot’ according to Cayde.”

“Ooh. Cayde pulled the ‘reckless’ thing on you?”

Rook laughs. There’s a pause, they continue walking leisurely. Avia’s Ghost managed to lock onto the Barons signature from a stray piece of Golden Age tech, so they’re following the marker.

“Yeah, first time Cayde really… Reprimanded me, ya know? And everything just kinda…” Rook searches for the words. Eventually he laughs again, dry. “I lost it. I mean, I was dead what, two, two and a half months before then? I had no idea what being a Guardian meant, I was just kind of ambling along, doing my own thing, trying to be grateful that I was alive. But I was just, reckless. Sorta took that out on him until he calmed me down, and after that I just decided I wanted to be better.”

Avia hums, sad that she’s never quite understood that aspect of being a Guardian, the ones that come back from the dead. Scarlet knows something about it, but the Exo just admitted that it was hard to explain; she could never understand. So she stays quiet, not wanting to ruin Rook’s reverence with hollow words.

Not that said reverence lasts long, however.

“Still,” the smile in his voice returns swiftly. “Can’t be that reckless anymore if Avia’s still following me around.”

She guffaws. “Don’t count yourself lucky.”

“Eh. I kinda do.”

Another pause, her heart skips a beat.

“You’re different, now. We both are.”

“Are we?”

_Are you?_ He may as well be asking, and the decision to step out comes easy.

“My first bust Strike? Was because I didn’t listen to the leader. Went off and did my own thing.”

“I’m sure that went well.”

“Oh, it went brilliantly. You know what else went? A Cabal Primus, along with a sizeable cache of data from Clovis Bray.”

Rook inhales dramatically.

“Ikora was mad.”

“Oh, I bet.”

Avia thinks back fondly. When she got back to the Tower after that Strike, the other two Guardians gave her the cold shoulder as she walked to the Vanguard. It felt like it always did, how she remembered on the Reef, like she was a dead girl walking.

“Ikora wasn’t just mad, either. She kept asking me why I did what I did, what went wrong aside from that, what I would do next time. I was just surprised to hear that there would be a next time. She was more upset than mad. Disappointed, and considering I was expecting anger and not that,” she laughs. “Well. I lost it.”

“Oh?”

She inhales, decides that she’s this far already, may as well come out with it. “I thought I was going to be punished, and when Ikora just, you know, told me that she expected better and, that I was a good Guardian and all of that I was just confused. I broke down.”

And _this_ is part of the reason why it’s so difficult for her. She remembers Ikora’s wide brown eyes, golden almost, looking at her in pity. Then steeling over in understanding, but it made Avia’s stomach churn all the same. She could only describe it as embarrassment, the line between her playful dramatic nature becoming blurred. If no one was going to laugh at her, that was okay, because she felt like laughing at herself. 

“The Awoken, they’d hurt you?” Rook asks.

“Not physically,” she answers around a dry laugh similar to his.

Ironically, Rook trips. He goes face first into the concrete floor with a _h-up!_ and the clang of his helmet hitting concrete echoes down the hall. Avia starts laughing in earnest as his Ghost scrambles to scan his body.

“Well apparently I look good in every light, even non-existent,” she giggles. “Couldn’t keep your eyes off me long enough to look where you were going, huh?”

“Well, sugar, you know – ah – what the hell?” Rook flips over, lightly brushes his Ghost away from his head as Avia takes a step back. They spot it easily enough, even as a mangle of limbs and material.

“That Dreg looks like its seen better days,” Rook huffs, standing up. His Ghost still pitters around him, scanning incessantly.

“Light above,” Avia breathes. “This is – its -- gross.”

“It’s _mutilated_. Hey, buddy, mind making yourself useful?”

Rook’s Ghost looks offended, shaking itself while mentioning that Rook’s vitals are okay. The Human doesn’t respond, both of them stand in terse silence as the Ghost scans the body of the dead Dreg.

Avia’s Ghost hovers closer so they can both see it clearly, and Avia feels as if her first observation is still the most accurate. The Dreg’s head is the only thing somewhat intact, the multi-rowed jaw of teeth hanging open in terror. Shock, as all four eyes are wide, the scan of Rook’s Ghost illuminating the iris’s as it passes over each one. Its neck is open, and underneath that the strike that severed it from the chest. The chest, of which, is open as though something burst out of it. Arms pulled off and shoved into the cavity, legs left mercifully alone but twisted, crumpled.

“Arms were pulled out of their sockets,” Rook’s Ghost begins. “The neck was – well, that much is obvious.”

“The chest?” Rook asks, and Avia can feel his gaze on her.

“Self-inflicted.”

“What?” Avia asks, stepping forward.

“Well, in a sense. Whatever did that definitely came out of its chest, makes me wonder how or what was in there. Although…”

Something clanks, clatters, rolls. The gentle clinks are followed by a shocked gasp and Avia and Rook ready their weapons immediately.

“There,” Rooks says, pointing out a shadow scuttling away. They give chase, the underground bunker funnelling into a series of smaller hallways lined with doors, barely illuminated. Chipped paint adorned in Russian words and fancy murals, rusted technology; the nature of the Cosmodrome.

Whatever they’re chasing it’s fast, humanoid, Avia observes as they catch up enough to see clips around the corners, and small. Whatever it is, it’s running fast enough to maintain the same distance from the Guardians, but not fast enough to outrun them. Her mind races to figure out what it could be – too small, for a Fallen. Hive, then? The size, irritably, throws her off.

It _must_ be Fallen, probably part of the group responsible for whatever happened to the mutilated Dreg. Her heart leaps at the chance, maybe they could finally find something to lead them to the Baron, some concrete evidence that would show them a direct path.

The last turn in the chase puts them at the mouth of a long hallway. A large steel door at the end of it slams shut.

“Shall we?” Rook offers through a pant as they reach it, his Ghost one step ahead, scanning the door for mere moments before it swings open, creaking. Before it finishes they step through, their Ghosts hovering above their shoulders.

The first thing Avia registers is a small gasp. Innocent, shocked. Similar to the noise that lead them here.

“ _Shh!_ ”

Her brows furrow, she looks at Rook and can feel the same confusion roll off of him. He brings his weapon up, she mirrors him, and they move further into the room, bathed in an orange glow, rusted beams hanging low. Trepidations spikes in Avia’s spine.

It doesn’t take long to find them, huddled together, four or five humanoids, and when Avia’s eyes settle on them, their complexions, blinding eyes and shimmering skin, she gasps.

Four of them are adults, Avia can tell they’re only a few decades older than her. Not that big a leap, by Awoken standards. The youngest, a child, shakes as he grasps the lilac hand of the woman in front of him.

“Awoken,” Rook’s Ghost says, and then beeps. “They’re injured.”

“We can help you,” Rook says, placing his weapon on his hip. “We’re Guardians.”

“We don’t need your help,” one of them spits, the oldest, Avia can tell. Bald, stocky, bright blue eyes. Her gaze pierces Rook, Avia looks down her arm at the child hanging onto her hand. They don’t look alike.

Another one chides the speaker, a soft blue hand rests on the older’s shoulder as she whispers delicately. “They can get us out of here.”

“We don’t _need_ their help.”

“Some of you are injured,” Rook continues, walking forward. “We can take you to the city. You’ll be safe, looked after.”

The leader – who reminds Avia far too much of Amethyst – scoffs and laughs.

“We don’t seek the protection of the Traveler,” she smiles cruelly. “If you knew anything about it, Guardian, the Light it has given you would feel like a curse.”

Avia knows that she could probably convince Rook to leave it, leave these Awoken here to die if that’s what they want. But her mind flits through their conversations, how much she’s opened up to him and her stomach twists. She holds no love for the Awoken; that much is painfully obvious. She doesn’t want Rook to think she wants to leave them to die. She likes to think she’s not that cruel.  

A weird sense of de ja vu settles over her as she mentally takes a backseat, tells herself to follow Rook’s lead.

“Look,” Rook presses, standing still again. “You have a child. And there’s a high chance you’ve decided to make camp in a Fallen den. We’ve been on their trail for a while now, and you aren’t safe here.”

“A Fallen den?!” An Awoken who has remained silent until now exclaims, and looks to the leader. Their blue, almost black eyes are wide and shocked. “We can’t stay here, not if there’s Fallen!”

“He’s lying.” The leader steels.

“Why would I lie?” Rook’s exasperated, about to give up? Avia hopes.

“We’re Awoken, who knows what you, the Speaker, anyone wants with us!”

Avia laughs. She can’t really help it, the naïve holier-than-thou mind-set of the Awoken is something the Queen used to keep her people under her thumb. The fact that these Awoken still believe it so far away from home is… Well, it’s laughable. She pities them.

“What’s so funny?” The leader sneers, her head snapping to Avia. Avia feels winded, that gaze piercing and so similar to Amethysts, always conniving and unimpressed.

“She’s Awoken,” Rook says. He settles, so easily, trying to diffuse the situation. Hopping onto his back foot, letting his arms rest softly on his hips. “We’re… Teammates. Have been for a long time now.”

“Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

“It means he won’t hurt you. Neither of us will.” Avia speaks for the first time, her voice stronger than she feels. “Even if you don’t want to go to the city, he’s right. You’re not safe here.”

They all, even the child, look to the leader.

“Take off your helmet.”

Avia laughs again, an exhale; _really?_

The leader bristles, clutching the child’s hand a little tighter. “Prove you’re Awoken, and you can lead us out of here.”

“Fine,” Avia sighs, putting her weapon on her hip and reaching up to slide her helmet off. With a release of air and a slight popping sound, the cold air of the room hits her cheeks. Her blue eyes hit the eyes of the leader, who nods.

“Okay. We’ll follow you out. But you’ll leave us somewhere safe, and then--”

“Wait,” the light blue skinned Awoken says, and everyone looks at them. “I know you.”

Avia looks them up and down, a panic rising in her throat. “I’m sure you don’t.”

“I do,” they say again, their eyes squinting as if trying to focus. “You’re Reefborn, definitely.”

“Reefborn,” The leader says, back on the offensive.

“Yeah, can’t you tell?”

No one says anything. Avia should’ve known that they’d be able to tell that she was Reefborn, but it just slipped her mind, a double edged sword of how long it’s been; how much she’s changed. All of a sudden annoyance surges through her.

“Well?” The leader demands, cutting through the silence. “Who are you?”

“No one you know,” shakes out of Avia. She winces at herself, she sounds weak, scared. It brings back too many memories, of begging, pleading for forgiveness.

“Does it matter?” Rook asks, and really, bless him for trying, but Avia already knows this is going to get ugly soon.

“Oh, it matters, _Human,_ ” and Rook reels back. (Simultaneously Avia’s heart sinks at how she’ll have to explain that to him later, how the Awoken can tell a Human from, well, everything else.)

“Light above, not exactly friendly are you?” He says. Avia’s chest tightens, the warm reacting to the cold, a bloom over the ice. It helps, more than he knows.

“You were part of the Guard, weren’t you?” The accuser says. Avia shakes her head but they continue in spite of her. “Yeah, you were!” There’s a pause, Avia has no idea what to say. She’s not even sure she could make any sort of lie sound convincing if she wanted to.

“Why did you leave us?”

Avia sees the flash of silver before it’s raised, and suddenly there’s a sidearm pointed at her. High impact, slow burst rate. At this close range it would hurt, but it wouldn’t keep her down.

 “Because she’s a traitor,” the leader spits.

“What the hell does that make you?” Rook snaps.

“We’re trying to preserve ourselves. The Reef isn’t safe, not after our Queen passed.” Her gaze settles firmly on Avia. “And she’s dead because of the likes of you.”

“She’s dead because she was stupid enough to believe she could win against someone stronger. Her pride, her vanity killed her. Not me.” Avia spits, her hands curling into fists.

The leader’s eyes go wide, but her grip on the sidearm begins to shake. Good.

“Look,” Rook steps forward and the sidearm faces him now, it makes Avia brace herself for a fight. “We won’t hurt you. We don’t want that.”

“Hah, don’t lie to me Human,” the leader sneers. With renewed vigour, she continues. “You and everyone else in that wretched Tower, under that false God have twisted her mind against her own people. If she stayed she might have been someone but you Guardians had to steal her away from us!”

Avia starts laughing. Cold and cruel. She’s not sure what she wants, right now. But she knows one thing.

“Is that what she told you? About the ones that leave.”

She starts slowly moving forward. Rook watches her every step, and the group is ushered backwards.

What she wants is for these Awoken to hurt like she had been every moment she spent breathing in the Reef. She wants them to know what it’s like to realise the things you care about hold no weight. She wants them to know that it all means nothing up there. They don’t mean a thing in this universe, in this galaxy or the next; they’re nothing but floating specs amongst the debris.

“Listen to me. You choose to protect a dying breed, whilst the Awoken – your people – are slaughtered by our enemies!”

“The Awoken _have_ no enemies!” Avia yells back. “Except the ones they make for themselves!”

The leader laughs, a mirror to Avia’s. She looks at Rook. “You said you wouldn’t hurt us, but look at you now, _Guardians_.”

“I won’t,” Rook breathes. “But I aint exactly going to hold her back. I’m smarter than that.”

Avia considers them for the longest time. She could do it. The leaders hand quivers and shakes. They’re all weak, fatigued. She tried to bargain, and it would feel so great to wipe that satisfied smirk off of her face. To show her, all of them, how miniscule they are. Her shotgun sits heavy on her hip and her hand itches for it.

“Avia?” Rook’s voice clears the fog in her mind. He says something else, barely a whisper, and she doesn’t hear it.

“If it’s what they want, let’s leave them to the Fallen,” Avia says finally, putting her helmet back on. As it clicks and connects with her armour she speaks again. “I’m sure they’ll love tearing your limbs from their sockets.”

The child gasps. They start shaking and crying, but none of the Awoken speak. Rook looks at Avia a second longer. He steps behind her, his presence overwhelming and comforting.

“Last chance.” He says, steel and sure. “Don’t make the wrong decision.”

Avia wonders who he’s talking to.

The leader continues to shake, more so now that the child at their side sniffles and wails.

“Just tell us how to get out, traitor.” She spits.

Avia bristles again but Rook starts talking. Directions, nice and slow, as if the last two minutes passed without any lives being threatened. Travellers light, it helps. He helps. His voice, so casual and direct soothes the ache in her chest.

When he finishes, Rook steps in front of Avia and gestures to the still open door. “After you,” he says to the Awoken. Not an ask, or a suggestion. They recognise it as such and move, the sidearm is still raised, and as soon as their footsteps and quivering tears round the corner of the hallway the line in Rook’s spine snaps and he turns slowly to Avia.

“You alright, sweetheart?”

Her lip is quivering, and she wants to speak but she knows her voice will betray her so she just shakes her head. Rooks arm comes up, hovers over her shoulder. She leans into it and they connect and it helps but it still hurts and she doesn’t want to say or do anything she’s still shaking and Rook says something but she misses it.

And then he says her name, something about the Tower. She nods and they return to orbit, her Ghost rubbing up against her other shoulder.

* * *

 

As soon as they land Avia babbles. They should have stayed where they were, figured out what happened to that Dreg. She sticks her heels in the ground when Rook tries to pull her, they need to go back because they could lose the trail, the Fallen could move on by the time they get back.

Darkness pulls around them, soft sounds escape the Tower as Avia talks and talks, Rook waiting for her to take a breath. He smiles when she does, places his hand on her shoulder again, the contact grounding for her. He insists, softly, that they can pick the trail back up again as soon as she’s ready. She can’t lie to him and convince him that she’s fine. She just can’t, so she concedes.

She settles in line with his steps, going wherever he leads her in spite of him staying exactly by her side. It comes back. That singular thought runs around her mind; what then. Rook backed her up in front of the insects of her race, what then? She tells him her story, her past in dramatic clips, what then? Her heart beats like a jackrabbit as they walk, continues to thump away as they move towards the New Monarchy lounge and sit on the plush red sofas. His face still reads concern as they shift into comfortable positions; what then?

The lounge is dead; save for Executor Hideo on the small balcony just above them. The fire in the pit burns warm on her skin, knees drawn up and crossed, Rook by the side of her, reclining. She doesn’t know how it started but soon they’re talking, about unfair faction rewards, Zavala and Cayde’s arguments. How Scarlet got more than she bargained for asking Grier about Toland, the younger Warlock all but pestering her about her secret project for the Hidden even weeks later.

(It soothes. Blooms across her chest. Helps. Rooks voice present and strong beside her, as easy as the wind that whips through the Tower.)

Eventually, he asks her if she’s okay, if she feels any better. She’s quiet, he waits patiently.

“You know,” she begins. “I was really close to Petra, when I – lived, I guess. In the Reef.”

“Hmm,” the noise lets her know he’s listening, a comfort she’s grown pleasantly used to.

“We were close but not, I guess, me-and-Grier close, you know? We competed, a lot. Not like I do with Carver, that’s, hah, that’s actually fun. With her it was different, bad. Personal. We both wanted the Queen’s favour, and we were both part of the best of her Guard. For me, I ate up everything she told us, convinced I owed her my life. Petra was in love with her, there’s no other way of saying it really, she was. So, we were at each other’s throats, so sure that there was nothing toxic about it,” images flit across her mind, high speed harbinger runs, times assassination missions, high strung meetings with the Queen. Being reprimanded by blue eyes of all shades and hues.

“She had a sister. She died, before the Hildean Campaign – er, when the uh, Queen, well you don’t need to know about that I guess it’s, long and stupid and I wasn’t even there--”

“Did you know her sister?” Rook’s voice is soft and the interruptions settles her, helps her get on the right path.

“Amethyst,” Avia smiles at the memory. Bright purple hair, two crystallised eyes, seeking, strong. “She didn’t like me.”

Rook laughs through his nose, an exhale.

“Petra lost herself after that. And I think that’s when I started to question, well, everything. Why I had pledged my life to the Queen when I didn’t even know what we were fighting for. Our long lives seemed so small, all of a sudden, and I tried so hard to figure out what I was doing with mine. The – things I did. We were trained to protect the Queen at all costs. Espionage, hand to hand. We worked closely under her brother. I hated it.”

“After Amethyst died, Petra and I grew apart. I didn’t exactly help her grieve, so. And then, Petra was promoted to the Corsairs. Even before I had it in my mind, the Queen knew there was a rivalry between us. If I was a Corsair it meant I could get away from Uldren. It was only after Petra was promoted that I realised what she’d been doing to us, to get me to… Perform better, to fight harder, to say yes to every suicide mission and lost cause. And it all meant _nothing_.”  

“I tried to warn Petra that she was being used – we both were. Her promotion was only to keep her fighting, to push us further apart, trying to keep her from being bone-idle. She wasn’t allowed to grieve. Petra was convinced I was just jealous, why would our Queen cause rifts between her best soldiers? Why would he manipulate us when she keeps us alive, and safe, and protects us from the million different things in the universe that want to kill us? And when her brother found out I…”

It’s a closed off memory, sealed tight behind lock and key. Rusted, old. Painful. Her heart twists in sorrow. Rook tenses, but says nothing. He gives her time.

“I wondered what would be worst; staying and fighting for something I had no heart in, or running, leaving my people behind, free without the protection that had been drilled into me my entire life. I knew my loyalty was being questioned. I knew I would have to fight harder to gain it back. But then I started wondering if I even wanted to. Loyalty came above _everything_ ,” she seethes, and her voice feels raw. “You were loyal to the Queen, to her brother, to the Awoken, to the Reef. Everything you did, every life you took was for her, for them, for you people. Light forbid you questioned it. You were a mindless, loyal soldier. You meant nothing to them if you were anything but.”

“So you ran away.”

“I couldn’t stand it, anymore. Being nothing, being mindless. So yeah, I ran,” she says solemnly. “Like a bat out of hell.”

Rook snorts. “That aint the phrase, sugar.”

She crinkles her nose, looks up in thought. “Yes it is..?”

“No, no it aint.”

She looks at him, warm brown eyes set on her face so softly, smiling. The fire in the pit crackles, like his gaze on her skin. She starts laughing.

“You tried though,” he says as she keeps laughing, wiping her eyes.

“Couldn’t think of anything more dramatic, I suppose,” her heart sinks, the laugher, Rooks company pulling her away from herself. “Light above Rook, I’m sorry.”

It’s his turn to laugh. “What for?”

“For – all that,” she gestures outwards, away from the Tower. “For all this.” She gestures at herself.

He grabs her hand from where it hovers in the air near her chest. It’s quick, not exactly elegant – a desperate grab. But she doesn’t flinch. He looks in her eyes as her hand relaxes, and pulls it close to him, his body moving forward in tandem. He rests it against his chest, thumb brushing over her knuckles.

She’s reminded of a conversation by the vaults what feels like forever ago.

“Don’t say that,” his eyes burn, engulfing her. “Don’t apologise for you. Not to me.”

She chokes up for a second, tears threatening to spill forward.

“You don’t know – you don’t --”

“Know you? Yeah, I do,” Rook smiles wide, and then it peels away. “I mean, I like to think I do.”

“I told you, the person I was the Awoken, you wouldn’t – you wouldn’t like that person.”

Rook makes a noise in his throat, his thumb still moving across Avia’s knuckles. “I don’t care about the Awoken, Avia. Even if there was a part of me that wishes you’d put those ones in their place.” He laughs, of course he doesn’t mean that.

“I might have done. You told them you wouldn’t have held me back.”

“I might have been joking, because I knew you weren’t going to hurt them,” there’s a pregnant pause. Rook looks down at their hands. “You’re better than that, than them. I know that about you. That’s all I need to know.”

She has to ask herself if she really is. She has to meet Rooks eyes and think about who she is, who she used to be. She thinks, about how he has so much faith in her, unshakeable, unquestionable.

“Who’s dramatic now?” The joke is lost in the way her lip trembles, damn her, and damn Rook because all he does is lean forward, both hands coming together over her own.

“I mean it. What those Awoken said doesn’t mean anything, not about you. You said yourself, they’ve been lied to, they didn’t know what they were talking about. You don’t believe them, do you?”

“No, but,” she says quietly, Rook’s ministrations never ceasing. “I wanted to…”

“You wanted to hurt them.”

She nods, thins her lips. He doesn’t know what to say to that and it gorges a hole in her chest. He looks down at their hands and Avia waits for him to pull away. He doesn’t. It confuses her, so she focuses on the contact, and eventually in her mind’s eye she sees herself surging forward, tipping his chin with her free hand, the thought cutting off abruptly to the tune of; _what then what then what then_.

“Would you have? Held me back?”

She expects him to recede from her like a tide at the thought. His hand remains around hers like a vice, as if he’s the one holding on right now.

“No. Well, yes?” He smiles again and she can’t understand it. “Bit of a heavy question, sweetheart.”

“Tell me,” she begs.

He looks at her, really looks at her, and nods his head.

“Yeah, yeah of course I would.”

“Why?”

“You would’ve regretted it.” He shrugs, as though it’s obvious.

“You don’t know that.”

His smile widens, teeth exposed at the front, eyes crinkling. “Is it so hard to believe you’re a good person?”

“But what if I’m not?” _What then_ , she wants to scream, screwing her eyes shut. _What then what then –_

“Avia, hey, Light above sweetheart I can see the gears turning in your head,” Rook laughs lightly. “Hey, look at me.”  

She opens her eyes, drags her gaze up, blurred and wet to look at him.

She can’t remember when their fingers became interlocked, because before her brain can catch up with the motion, his hand moves. Time slows for her, electricity sparks when fingertips brush her wrist, her elbow, the curve of her shoulder, settling on the clasp that unlocks the right gauntlets of the sealed Ahamkara grasps from her body.

“Do you trust me?”

What a stupid question. It makes her smile, and Rook’s face lights up.

“I’ve gotta hear you say it,” he breathes.

In the moment, she thinks it’s for his ego’s sake, a joke riding on the smile he got from her, the first one in a while since their brush with the fleeing Awoken.

Once they finally crash together, two people, two Hunters, two Guardians deciding to make their own fate, she’ll know why he asked.

“Yes. I trust you.”

He smiles with his whole mouth, positively blinding, and she watches him unclasp her gauntlets, slide the plated claws from her shoulder, forearm, wrist. He’s careful with the cat-like nails on her fingertips. He places each piece on the marbled floor by their side with as much care. He slips his warm fingers underneath the wrist of the undersuit, and Avia looks up at him, face soft but concentrated. She realises his hair is down, brown waves caressing over his shoulders, the way she likes it. Not that she’d ever say that.

“I like your hair when it’s down,” tumbles from her lips and Rook smirks as he looks up at her.

“I know you do,” he slips the glove of the undersuit off, revealing a purple hand, brittle nails.

He’s oh so gentle with her hand, treating it delicately, looking down and then up at her as if he expects her to tell him to stop. When she says nothing, he manoeuvres her hand in a regal gesture.

“I’ve, uh, picked up on a couple of things. I get the feeling you’re scared, of who you were. In the Reef, with the Awoken.”

“I’m, just,” she breathes. “Yeah. Scared.” His brow furrows.

“I don’t blame you. But I don’t think you should be, anymore. Ah, and, and I know that’s easy enough for me to say, but. Light above, Avia. I just want you to be you, and not afraid of it. Even the bad parts.”

He places a chaste kiss along her knuckles. Her heart stops. He makes to move his hand away from hers, leaning his shoulder back down to the armour. Her free hand comes up over them. “Don’t,” she says softly, he halts immediately. She doesn’t look up, just moves her head forward until it comes into contact with his. A tear spills.

“Hey,” he says. “It’s okay.” She feels, this time, him not only thread their fingers, but add his free hand and squeeze with both.

She moves to his neck, nestles herself in it. She pushes out everything, her mind goes blank. He smells like summer days and warm steel. All she needs, she decides, is to be here. _Right here_ for a few moments, as many as she can get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the sake of clarity, I'm not egotistical. Avia is my OC and obviously it's easier for me to write these kinds of thing happening to her. However I hope to have something a little more Rook centered up next, so I hope pins is ready for more inane questions about their oc aha. Thanks for reading, and come bother me on Tumblr: nerdy-kins.tumblr.com

**Author's Note:**

> Have a good Christmas guys, there's more of this to come.<3


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